


Interim

by jargonelle



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargonelle/pseuds/jargonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael/Maeby. Post season 4. Rebuilding. Written for ad-kink.livejournal.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interim

Michael was up in the attic again. He never opened the boxes so far as she could tell, but he would sit and take stock in his head over and over of the sum of what was left to him. He treated the rest of the house as if it were still a model home, with nothing on display but plastic and filler, and everything cherished hidden carefully out of sight. 

\--

Maeby lay on her bed, the door wide open. She was considering writing a tell-all book; the public loved rehashing and rebooting the same old stories, and it had been at least six months since she had seen herself on the news. He had finally managed to get Sudden Valley back on the grid, but it remained deserted. Her parents hadn't called, but worse than that, neither had the studio. Neither of them had heard from George Michael.

\--

“We should build something,” she said. “Together.” She was wrapped up in one of his unwashed shirts, bare feet on the cold kitchen floor.

On autopilot, his mouth rattled off the usual excuses, lack of land, lack of investors, lack of confidence in their oh so tarnished family name, while his brain considered how he could best leverage Lindsay's campaign backers and whether he could borrow against his parents' penthouse.

“Not like that, not anything real.”

\--

Fake walls, fake roofs, fake windows, fake doors. Put it up, tear it down, recycle it into another script and pass it off as Ohio, or the moon, or Iraq, or wherever. Whatever you need, they can build it faster and cheaper and phonier than anyone.

“It's nice,” he said, “Cheating people who want to be cheated. For the first time in years, I actually feel like a decent human being.”

So then he proved he hadn't changed, and kissed her.

\--

He was old, so much older than her last boyfriend, with bitter lines etched into features which once had been smooth. He smelled warm and strong and nothing like her father, and he kissed her crisp and dry, and nothing like George Michael. 

He pulled away, but left one hand tangled in her hair. “What am I doing?” he mouthed. “It's wrong. I'm wrong.”

“Which one of us here is the sex offender, again?”

–

She was flirty and cocksure until they made it to the bedroom, where he stripped down to his T-shirt and she hesitated, lingering over her boots.

“Hey, hey, shh, it's okay,” he said. “We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with.”

“I'm comfortable with you.”

Of course she was, she'd known him all her life after all.

–

They were sat in the kitchen sharing a piece of toast when GOB arrived unannounced, looking for a piece of their company action, as illusions and set-dressing were his areas of expertise. 

“And so it begins,” Michael said. “The floodgates open.”

“And so it ends,” she said, and pushed the plate over to him. “I'll get my own breakfast from now on.”

–

Nothing they built ever lasted.

\--


End file.
